A few days ago, my mom came over and when she was about to leave Alvin looked so pleadingly at her that she couldn't resist. She was going home to take a nap and asked if I thought that Alvin would let her nap if she took him home. I confidently answered yes, while picturing him circling all over her house and possibly urinating on her floor, but I thought that the boy deserved the chance. Off they went, and as always, I watched from the window because they look so darn cute together. When she got to the end of the driveway, I saw her lean down and say something to him, which I discovered later was her telling him to stop the stupid circling thing because "they" weren't going to do that anymore. So, off they circled to her house. After a while I noticed that an hour had gone by and wondered how it was going. I knew it couldn't be going poorly and eagerly awaited their return. It turns out that "they" didn't nap at all but spent the whole time in the kitchen making food, which meant that Alvin got all kinds of treats. My mom proudly announced that Alvin can take a whole piece of bologna at one time and eat it in no time flat. This was seen as an achievement because as some of you may recall, Alvin had that very odd chewing problem where he had to spit out and repeatedly try to eat food that was mushy like hot dogs or bologna. I didn't bother to ask how many times they "practiced" the new bologna eating skill because I inevitably get the reprimand from my mom that if she is going to be the grandma then I need to realize that grandma's get to spoil the grandchildren and that what happens at grandma's house stays at grandma's house.
While basking in the glow of the resoundingly successful visit at her house, I asked her if she had read your comments about Alvin's need to permanently live here. She replied that she had indeed read them and didn't offer any thoughts on the subject. The truth is, Alvin does not need to stay here, my mom needs to come officially claim her dog and take him home with her because I do not exist in his world when she is present. It's so bad that when we are at her house and I try to take him home, he puts on the brakes and I have to slide him across her floor and out the door. He inevitably runs back into her house before the screen door closes. A couple of days ago, as we were leaving, he didn't put on the brakes and went right out the front door. My mom said, "look at how well he did," and before she could complete the sentence, he ran back in her house with less than an inch to spare before the screen door shut. There I was, holding the other end of the leash, with Alvin safely on the other side of the door. I would consider putting a doggy type door in our connecting fence but I would never see him again. He has chosen his person and his devotion runs deep. My mom and I were talking about it recently and concluded that clearly my mom must be weird. Alvin is odd, and I say that with a great deal of love and respect for him, but he is odd and my mom and came to the only conclusion that could be made, my mom is odd too and Alvin senses their common ground. This of course, means that I am the epitome of normalcy, which Alvin cannot fully relate to. It's tough being so well adjusted but somebody has to do it.